


Show Me The Stars

by 7O_Prim3



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, we stan healthy communication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28456881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7O_Prim3/pseuds/7O_Prim3
Summary: The Autobots are praised for their undying loyalty to the pursuit freedom, but what faith are they truly pursuing? The Decepticons may have lost their way, but can they be rescued? And most importantly, when did she begin caring about what happened to this cursed war?
Relationships: Optimus Prime/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so uh this is my first fic so I'd love for some constructive criticism! Please just be gentle lol. And like always, Transformers Prime does not belong to me, I'm simply twisting the story to my own interpretation! Updates also may be slow since I am currently working on my degree.
> 
> Anyways I hope you guys like it!

The sky darkened with streaks of dark ash, unfurling upwards. Teardrops fell from the sky, one by one, multiplying to two, then four, then six, and then suddenly there were too much for her to count. Soft little _splats_ fell next to her while she lay on the cool metal surface. Howls of the wind swept away withering leaves and pricked her skin like dozens of sharp needles. 

There was heaviness to her arms as she tried to lift them up, a heaviness that told her that she wasn’t one with the allspark yet. 

A soft exhale left her mouth in the form of a white translucent cloud which quickly dissipated within moments. 

Her eyes, hazy and blue, gazed at the dark sky, somewhat intrigued by all the glimmering lanterns hanging above her. A peaceful serenity of sorts with no rush to do anything; until she tasted the bitterness in her mouth. And then a flash of purple optics replayed through her head followed by a bright white light.

She gasped, suddenly sitting up, as if she had just awakened from a long nightmare that had been plaguing her for years. 

Her face felt strange, numbed, probably from the cold though she still remembered the mechanical pieces that were _supposed_ to be on her face. Jaw hinges, audials, her helm, key features she recognized through touch.

Except it _wasn’t_ there. Instead in its place was something soft, warm and cool, dense yet malleable, something _utterly incoherable._ As if it were trying to mimic the feel of a protoform, except it was less metal like and more…fleshy? Simply touching the material sent a shiver straight striking down her spine. Though that could also be the result of a rumble in the sky that immediately kicked up her _flight no fight_ response. 

Her body leapt up, scrambling to the nearest cover which happened to be the canopy of two oak trees. Pushing her back against the bark, she half expected the liquid in the sky to be the same tinted orange or green that singed her fleshy skin right off of her. 

Instead it was clear. A cold wave of wind brushed over her, bringing her arms to her shoulders as she curled in for warmth. Yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the cool liquid, watching it with mild curiosity, half tempted to touch it while the more reasonable side of her urged her to be rightfully wary of the liquid. Her gaze wandered, looking up from the soil and at the various bushes and trees surrounding her, the soft pelts the liquid made with green petal shaped leaves, noticing a lack of damage to said leaves as the liquid slipped off--

“Ah!” she shrieked when something splat on her arm, dripping off the side and landing in a wet splotch on the ground. Her spark seized up, tightening, expecting pain to hit her all at once while her fingers squeezed the calves of her leg, getting ready to direct her sensory circuits elsewhere so that the pain wouldn’t be as excruciating. Except it didn’t hurt. All that was left in its place was a cool sensation, which didn’t help her shivering body, but was loads more preferable to acid rain.

“Water..” she suddenly realized after observing the droplet for an extended period of time.

Water wasn’t a foreign concept to her, in fact, she had plenty of experience with it’s counterpart ice _._ Especially in the past quartex following the destruction of Cybertron where she would be required to land on all sorts of terrains to either do repairs to her ship, visit a galactic market and replenish supplies, or simply for her own enjoyment. The molecule H2O, was abundant in space. It’s form however as a liquid however, not too much, though she wouldn’t consider it a rare find.

Another splat, this time on her knee. She followed the trail of liquid down her leg while also taking in the _bizarre_ features of her current form. No armor, not a hint of metal, and where did all her weapons go? Was this organic substance supposed to be an equivalent, because it was failing miserably to do its job based on the irritation it made when she simply touched the grains on the ground. 

Something snapped inside of her as she continued to stare at the wretched covering, scratching it, wishing it would peel off like a layer of wax. 

But it didn’t. 

She ran her fingertip over the flesh, looking for any cuts or etches into the skin she could try prying it off from. 

There weren't any.

In some last ditch effort she tried pulling off the skin, thinking that perhaps this was some strange metamorphosis she was stuck in, but it _wouldn’t come off._ Her throat closed in, her eyes wide, pulling, yanking, doing _anything_ to pull this _disgusting_ thing off of her. But it still _wouldn’t come off._ And it didn’t help that everytime she pulled it _hurt_.

“Come on, come on!” she cried, scratching the skin, hoping it would simply peel off, revealing a layer of metal underneath. That she was still _her_ and not this _weak_ organic based _alien_ . Because _she_ wasn’t weak. No she was capable and fine _all by herself._ But not like this she wasn't! Not like this, this, fleshbag! She grabbed a fistful of skin and screamed, pulling as much as she could before the pain became excruciating _._

She stopped for a moment as her vision went hazy and she stopped breathing for a minute. Tearing away her eyes from the revolting sight that was her, she aimlessly stared at the sky, questioning what was reality and not. 

It could just be a trick on her, somebody sneaking aboard her ship while she recharged and shutting her in a stasis pod where they could control her dreams and place her in different circumstances and make it feel like reality. She wouldn’t put it past Shockwave’s abilities to rig something like that up.

However, it didn’t sound plausible, considering in the rare occasion she did recharge, she would have a knife in her servo, a blaster in arm’s reach, and all her security protocols on full blast. 

Not to mention she had steered clear of the “Decepticon Justice Division” aka the DJD after she went awol _and_ checked how high up on the list she was which thankfully _,_ she wasn’t in the top ten names. No she was the eleventh name. 

Though, she would much prefer being slaughtered in some sort of quirky method. Have her arms chopped off, squeezed of energon, and then be forced to drink said energon. Gouge out her optics and make her rust from the inside--wait no, she already did that to someone else. Regardless, there was no way she was supposed to be this...what was she even?

The limbs seemed vaguely reminiscent of the typical frame of cybertronians; separate digits, palms, two arms, two shoulders, one torso, two legs, calves, etc. The one peculiar thing was the appendages attached to the tips of what was supposed to be her pedes.

Sighing, she ran a hand up her head, half-expecting her helmet to be still there. Instead soft dusty purple strands tangled into her fingers, and in a moment of surprise jerked away from them. Suddenly the weight and feathery material on her shoulders and chest became apparent, but she wasn’t going to look down to see how it looked. Instead she sighed again, rubbing her eyes, trying to snap herself out of shock and actually figure out what the frag she was going to do now and how she had even turned this way in the first-place.

But the pounding in her just wouldn't _stop,_ and the hair stringing around her throat felt _suffocating,_ and _primus she just wanted to wake up from this cruel dream._

She probably reached a level of half insanity when she bent down, pinched the skin on her arms and _pulled._

The sound of organic skin ripping was one she never wanted to hear ever again. 

The pain wasn’t that bad. 

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but in some sort of sick twisted way, she felt _relieved._ Relieved to see the startling turquoise blue liquid gushing out. She wasn’t a masochist, but when she stuck her finger inside of the open wound and felt the fiery venom of fire as she poked the shiny metal structures within, she laughed. A strange sort of laughter, cut up into short sections, the first one unrealizing, the second one joy, the third one relief.

She was still cybertronian. Even if primus infuriated her, she couldn’t help but utter the words “thank primus” while she rested her head back on the tree. Energon dripped down her right upper arm, down her fingers, onto the soil soaking into the ground and mixing in with the rain drops.

She watched in a strange daze, not quite present, but not quite into recharge either. And then her lips moved.

“R-relic...the transmuter...the transmuter!”

The cogs in her processor turned slowly, the events that had been wiped upon the impact suddenly racing back to her. That relic, the reason she was in that fight, the reason she had crashed, the reason...oh....

Conveniently, something zipped past her in the distance, and she nearly had a spark attack right then and there. Oh frag frag frag frag of all the bots in the world it had to be her. She was doomed. Probably insane too considering she stood up as the rain began to ebb instead of staying put and accepting her indisputable demise. 

She finally looked back down again, taking a good look at her body. Besides the fact that it was appalling to even look at, she noticed much of her body structure remained the same. In fact, there were several pink and brown lines cut onto her skin, aligning with the scars on her protoform. Skimming the tips of her fingers over them, she noticed the skin there was much less softer, unevenly textured. 

Still not regretting the fact she didn’t take the chance to go explore that organic planet with Shockwave, she carefully took a step out. 

The shadows of lucious green drapes danced over her skin while fuzzy mosses melted against her scraped soles. Everything glistened in the wet droplets, with the light sparkling over the dew. The air was damp and heavy, while the smell was earthy. If she was supposed to have an epiphany about how beautiful this place was, this most certainly was not it as the moment she took an additional step, her feet sunk into a pool of mud. 

And then she watched horrified as a wriggling pink _worm_ began crawling out from the same pit, slithering on top of the gunky brown slug. The way it moved and it’s face-less body was more than enough to send her skittering backwards—straight into a spiderweb. At first she was confused at the sticky, white strings catching around her head and face as she moved, until she saw a creature which she _swore_ wasn’t there before, dangling half-a-centimeter from her face. Eight beady little eyes along with six long spindly legs and some sort of pedipalp protruding from what she could only assume was a mouth, with tiny little black hairs dotting its face. 

She screamed.

And then she ran. There was nowhere in particular she ran too, her only thoughts consisting of _I hate everything_ and _get me the frag away from this place_.

The terrain was uneven and rugged, and she winced everytime something sharp pinched the bottoms of her feet, but that didn’t stop her from continuing forward, slapping any branches coming into her way. All sorts of strange sounds surrounded her, from low cooing, to threatening rumbles, to sharp chirps--all of them far too unnatural for her to even begin to calm down. And every sudden _whisk_ past her reminded her of who exactly she was grounded with on this planet.

Eventually, it wasn’t her lack of panic that slowed her down, rather how _exhausted_ she was. 

It came in a wave, one second she was soaring through the forest like a mad man, the next she was on her knees, heaving whatever she had last night which by the looks of it was energon and _holy scrap_ no wonder she ran out of rust sticks so quickly. After that thoroughly enlightening experience, she groggily stood back up, wiping and spitting away the bitter taste in her mouth. 

“The ship…” she murmured, creating her first priority. Part of it was so that she could fill the resounding empty space in her stomach. But probably more importantly was that it distracted her from her current situation, a short-term goal that would help her feel some sense of achievement to lift up her spirits and get her back in working order. 

It was a trick she used several times on herself to get out of sticky situations. Whether that be dangling over a magma pit with nothing but herself to get out of it, to being captured by bounty hunters and torn open for parts, to listening to Starscream rant about his undeniable quest for power. 

Thanks to the freshly dampened ground, her footprints were still nicely molded in the ground. She couldn’t have fallen too far from the ship, so her best bet was to retract herself back to the same place. 

Watching out for any mud pits and webs, she found herself back to the same tree with faint traces of her diluted energon still there. Her eyes flashed over to her right when the leaves rustled, but when it came to a stop, she couldn’t help but feel that this was all some joke on her. That, or they, or _whomever_ was watching her wanted her to stir into madness. But that wouldn’t happen. No she _would not_ let this place control her. 

She just had to think. Think back to what happened, access all the miniscule details that her processor recorded while she was busy. Get back to her ship, fix what she needed, and _leave_.

“Think, come on _work_!” She ushered, smacking her head as if it were some faulty engine sputtering as it tried to start up.

Looking around her for anything that may jog up her memory, she noticed a trace of ashes. Sliding her fingers across the black powder, she rubbed the soot in her finger tips and looked out straight in front of her. More burned trees. As she strayed further into the territory of broken trees and loose terrain, her memory began jogging back up. The fight leading up to her transformation, the crash. 

Her face twisted when she stepped in a puddle and she glanced down. It was a ped. Rather, _her_ ped molded into the ground, filled up with water. The realization of how minuscule she had become was further exacerbated by the comparison of her feet now to the sheer size of her pedes. Like an ant in the middle of a toddler’s footprint.

Her lips pursed with her face grim as another crackle of leaves besides her sent her head shooting to the side. Finding nothing but shadows, she shook the thought in her head and continued on forward.

It didn’t take long for her to come across the crash site of her ship. She practically ran to the behemoth of a ship with open arms, warmth prickling the corners of her eyes. 

The hull was cut into, a massive hole gaping into the side of the ship, familiar claw marks branding the side. Thankfully, this was probably the only time she would be grateful someone wrecked into her ship, giving her an easy entrance inside. 

Water droplets hung and dripped from the top of the hole, one falling on her shoulder and sending a cold shiver as it dribbled down her back.

The inside was a mess; datapads, scattered across the floor, energon dripping above from punctured fuel lines, wires sparking from the control panel, the screen at the front shattered with a tree branch stuck through with its leaves scattered over the control desk, lights deactivated, and the cool metallic smell of water and metal flooding her olfactory senses.

Walking over to one she exhaled sharply noticing the cracked screens on numerous datapads and dark screens. A quick swipe with her finger affirmed her suspicions, only two or three subverting them despite appearing a little worse for wear.

Looking back to the front of the ship where rays of sunlight seeped into the dark gloomy interior, the light seemed to glint over the gooey blue liquid dripping from the ceiling and landing into a puddle on the floor. Her eyes guided her towards the miracle juice in a way that almost frightened her, taking over her entire body in an instant.

It ran smoothly down her throat, soothing almost like methanol in cough drops, pooling into the bottom of her stomach. A few streams of energon ran down the side of her cheek and down her chin. 

Gluttony, one of the seven sins she recalled while shoving mouthfuls of energon. Had she stood in one of the temples of Prime’s several thousand millennia ago, drinking energon wastefully used aesthetically to drip off the “life-giving” servos of Primus, she would’ve been called disrespectful, ill-mannered. An insult to Cybertron’s progression and an example to reinforce the rigid hierarchy

Yet it was funny, when energon began running low and even the elites couldn’t find energon, they all stood in the same place as her.

She recalled the mission vividly, storming in with her division to claim the quadrant as decepticon territory. Expecting soldiers to hide within the impressive architecture of the building, she snuck in, spreading out her troops and converging inwards. 

When she actually went inside however, guns ablaze, the sight inside had her pause in her tracks. Dead bodies littered the inside of the temple while frail guards who once snapped at her from stealing a handful of energon from the statues now dove into the heaps of flowing energon, coated in a sheen of blue, optics wide and mouths agape. 

She laughed. A loud, hallowing laugh that brought the whole stealth operation to a sharp close upon realization these weren’t soldiers she was dealing with. No these were _animals_. Just like them. 

It was a beautiful sight, watching bullets soar in front of her, the splashes of energon rising up and splattering over the pristine white marble grounds, across the legs of the thirteen original primes. 

Within a joor, she practically had all bots killed or captured and the entire quadrant practically under wraps once Starscream brought his seekers to secure the air and destroy autobot reinforcements. 

A glorious sight it was already, she took the chance to make it heavenly, rearing up her blaster at a statue of Primus and blasting his head off. Autobots, always the ones needing to vocalize their opinions, yelled after her, claiming she would “get what was coming to her” one day for doing that. She responded by shooting one of them clean through the spark with a sneer.

She paused, standing there for a moment with energon running down her naked body. Hair slicked straight in the fluid, she slowly ran her fingers through the dense strands sticking together, moving in unison like the soldiers of a unit. 

Back then it would’ve been hard for her to think of a life outside of the fight. She lived, _breathed_ the taste and smell of energon, ingrained in her body the very moment she stepped into the pits. It was her answer to everything.

_What inspired you to become a gladiator?_

Energon.

_Why do you fight?_

Energon.

_Is there anything you wish you had more of?_

Energon.

_Do you enjoy the fights?_

Yes, because I get energon after.

_Why are your fights so much more gruesome?_

Because I get more energon that way.

After it had been dangled in front of her for so long, given small sips to give her a _taste_ of what she was missing out on, she finally fought for it herself. And she prized it, treasured the taste and fullness that was non-existent in the mines. Of course, the hollowness came back sometimes, and sometimes it felt like she would never experience content again. 

Now however...oh she was literally showered in energon. She knew that energon was just a leverage over her in the pits. That if they increased it, she would do anything they wanted. It was what separated her from Megatron. He held onto his pride like it was some sacred object. Even if he was starving, he wouldn’t dare bow his head down for energon.

Meanwhile, she would do it without a second thought. It didn’t mean she didn’t have standards, it just meant she was able to eliminate them whenever she pleased. If she’d have to kill to get herself a cube of energon, it wasn’t personal. 

Staring at the dark ship walls, she exhaled softly, leaning her head back onto the cool metal. Holding up a handful of the blue liquid, she narrowed her eyes.

“I hate you.”

When it didn’t respond back to her and affirm that this was indeed just a dream, she licked the remaining liquid off her palm. In hindsight, it was a poor decision to coat herself in energon as it had the tendency to get sticky after some time. And who knows, maybe it would dye her skin blue too.

A little less strange than this tanned shade.

Standing up, she walked out the gaping hole in the side of her ship, also grabbing one of her small blades that worked as a knife. Organic planets were not an area of expertise for her, but she had to presume like fifty percent of other planets, they had rivers. Oil may not be abundant on this planet, but considering water rained from the skies, she was sure that would be a fine substitute.

Like she presumed, finding a river didn’t take too long. A sharp ear locating the direction of rushing water to the east, and a fierce avoidance for _any_ creepy-crawling creatures, including those cybertronian. 

The current was harsh, and it felt like pins and needles against her skin as she sunk her legs over the ledge. Cupping water, she rubbed off the energon which already began sticking to her, splashing her face with the frigid liquid. Then she began working through her long locks, pretty much flipping her head upside-down and allowing only the strands of hair to be whipped by the river. 

Once she finished up working through her body, dare she say it, she felt much better. Though she was finding how terrible of a mistake ripping her skin had been, energon continuously leaking out. Normally she could lean out, and then bind the metal herself with a scar, though she doubted the same thing would work with flesh. 

She needed something to put pressure on it, otherwise all the energon sitting in her tanks wouldn’t stay for too long. 

Looking around, her eyes lingered over large fronds of leaves. Signaling as the way water slid down the top, she assumed it was waterproof. Not quite perfect, but it was better than nothing. 

Grabbing a thin flexible vine vine, she wove it into a twist. Then she grabbed the large leaf, folding it in half along the spine, and then rolling it up to get a sort of cylindrical shape when she wrapped it around. Then making a small hole towards the end of the long band, she pulled the bundled vine through. Her plan was to use the vine after she wrapped the leaf around her arm, but she quickly found the vine was much too fragile to hold in place. Meanwhile the leaf was difficult for her to wrap around her arm. 

After a few attempts she admitted defeat, standing back up and looking for another solution. A shrill scream and roar of an engine grasped her attention. 

Of _course_! Why hadn’t she thought of that?

Walking towards the noise with her knife extended outwards, following a suspicious eight-legged track, she kept to the shadows of the trees. It didn’t help that she could probably sniff her out and find her if she got too close. 

Thankfully, it was easy to find what she was looking for. 

The sticky, thick webs slapped onto trees along the trunk, while others dangled like the strands of her hair from branches. The air felt hollower and dryer too, but that could simply be because of the eerie atmosphere that practically coated over the ship in the distance. 

She set to work immediately, cutting through the webs she could reach and bandaging it around her arm, just tight enough to put some pressure on the open wound. Grabbing some more to switch out later, she didn’t bother to stick around when hearing the sultry sickening femme voice of Arachnid echoing through the forest, calling out the name “Jack”. Even if her voice was faint, she knew exactly what “sport” she enjoyed, leading her to this scrappy planet. 

Her thoughts wandered back to the transmuter, and for a moment she wondered if Arachind had been turned to this flesh monstrosity as well. But then she remembered the footprints that were rather far from her ship, assuming she retreated back to her ship after her sudden absence within the fight.

The transmuter was _supposed_ to have made her encounters with other species off-worlds less throwing fists and more bargaining. Cybertronians, though certainly widespread within the universe, were not exactly the most welcomed—and for good reason to.

Honestly, considering how much the Primes have screwed up, it was surprising how many bots still worshipped them. After all, it was because of the Fallen’s over ambition that led to the countless destruction of civilizations and species. And yet Megatron decided to name himself right after him. 

Funny how history tends to repeat itself.

While she certainly no longer appeared as threatening however, she doubted escaping narrow encounters with the DJD or other autobots and decepticons would even be possible. Not like she had a way to get off this rock anyways. 

The sky faded, and soon it was dark outside. It was easy to feel that whatever this body was made up of, it couldn’t withstand cold temperatures for too long. Making a fire was challenging, given her lack of tools, but with a little bit of wood, and a hell lot of friction, she did it. 

Holding her scratched up palms over the fire, she glanced over at the water tin rolling at her side. It was basically some metal plating which she bent up into the shape of a long canister, and filled up with water. There were several of them, as she learned besides simply bathing in water, drinking water was also important to avoid the tight dryness in her throat. 

It felt rather calm in the forest, despite the occasional howls and scampering in the distance, ruffling up autumn leaves. Considering the sheer panic that flooded her senses hours earlier, it felt rather anticlimactic to simply lay here on the mud-patted floor, watching the auburn flames crackle and flicker. 

Numbness perhaps? A general disconnect to what was happening, stemming from her otherwise disdain of the world. 

Or was it acceptance? A sense of withdrawal from the heavy grudge she had against her body, coming in terms with it like most things in her life.

She could probably figure out the answer to it if she tried, but either she simply didn’t want to know the answer. Or she didn’t care enough to bother anymore. 

Switching to her back, she stared at the sky. Strange how the stars always seemed to look the same no matter where you were. Half-way across the galaxy, and you could be looking at the same stars as someone else. 

Up there, nothing felt bounded. How could the sky be the limit when there was so much more beyond? 

***

_“Shouldn’t you be recharging?”_

_She heard heavy pedes walking towards her while she sat at the edge, head tilted back at to look at the sky. It was the top of a roof to be exact of the prestigious tower, meant for only the most impeccable gladiators. The habsuites held plumbing, and the oil temperature of the showers went up to slightly warm instead of the frigid cold she was used to. In fact, the first thing she did upon arrival from her battle earlier was to shower herself in the thinned, diluted oil._

_There was also a berth inside, so she wasn’t reduced to recharging on the ground. However it was hard to recharge with the loud whooping of bots in the room next to her, hence why she was up here despite the rather chilly breeze sweeping over._

_“I should say the same to you,” she replied after a moment._

_She could sense the mech staring at her despite the fact her optics remained glued to the sky. Perhaps because moments earlier she had been in a frenzy, her bloodied servos tightly grasping the axe handle and decapitating the wrecker-type mech. And then with a strangled shout she continued to swing at the deceased mech, energon splattering over her and drenching her in cybertronian blood._

_She probably looked like a psychopath, given the way she kept at it, mutilating the mech into chunks of limbs and body parts while his helm stood a meter away, skewered with a spear to be shown off as a trophy. But he was already dead—she made sure of it by swinging straight into his spark chamber next incase the decapitation hadn’t offlined him fully yet._

_The crowd roared, both horrified and mesmerized. It was easy for her to imagine the type of names and connotations her behavior would reinforce._

_Perfect._

_One thing about the pits that she had learned through the gruel was the importance of making yourself a name._

_Soundwave, the silent killer._

_Megatronous, the powerful warrior._

_And her...the merciless slaughterer._

_“Are you...are you alright?”_

_Surprised, she glanced towards him._

_“Yes, of course. I’m not the one lifting lugnuts up in the allspark.”_

_He stifled a chuckle, plopping down beside her. Again, more shock, and then suspicion. His pointy delta peeked through his mouth with a rugged grin as he looked up at the sight she had been watching intensely beforehand._

_“Never took a sociopath as one to reconcile their sins within the stars.”_

_She hummed, “So that’s what they’re calling me now? I expected worse.”_

_“Well, you took everyone for a shock alright. A skinny young femme taking on a mech twice your size. Impressive, but nothing that hadn’t been done before.”_

_“Thanks,” she said dryly._

_His optics seemed to burn into the side of her face, as if he was studying her. A part of her thought he was here to give her a warning, threatening to scrap her if she dared try and snatch his title like so many other gladiators from other pits had done to her._

_“If I didn’t know any better I would’ve thought it was beginners luck. Seems like those fights in the mines paid off.”_

_Her optics widened, her head jutting to the right. He smiled serenely, laying back with his arms flexed behind him, the white speckles glimmering in the sky reflecting into his blue optics._

_How did he know she was from the mines? Apparently the shock finally leaked into her expression as he held up his left arm, revealing a scratched designation: MX185903._

_“I’m wounded. Would’ve thought a fellow miner recognized their own co-worker,” he said with false hurt in his voice._

_Squinting her optics, she studied him, trying to recollect where they may have met. Yet either she took too many hits to the helm today, or he was making up this whole thing to get into her head._

_Clever._

_“Do I know you?”_

_“Oh no of course not, we didn’t even work in the same crew.”_

_She raised a brow, “Then how…”_

_“You did however chew out one of my teammates.”_

_“Huh. So you aren’t here to chew me out or something are you-“_

_“Oh no, he rightfully deserved it.”_

_“I see,” she nodded slowly, still unable to recall this so-called fight. Observing his rather relaxed form, either he was a good actor, or he hadn’t come here on ill-intent, which would be a first._

_“You don’t remember do you?” He said after noticing her prolonged blank gaze at him._

_“To be fair, I don’t make an effort to recall all those I’ve picked a fight with.”_

_“Ah I suppose that makes sense.”_

_Silence._

_“Why did you keep swinging?” He asked out of the blue._

_“Pardon?”_

_“That decapitation would be enough to send the crowd roaring. But instead you went on to sever their limbs, body. Either you lust for blood from your own brethren, or there was an offer.”_

_“So everyone gets the chance for a raise,” she murmured under her breath._

_“I’ve seen bots like you before. Getting into the pits, trying to buy their way up to Iacon. It doesn’t work that way.”_

_She wasn’t sure if she should be offended that her goals were so easy to view from another’s perspective._

_“Is it not? I would think sneaking a couple heaps of shillex would be more than enough to erase my database stored in the archives.”_

_“Trust me, I’ve tried. The guards and data-collectors here are not so easy to persuade like the ones back in the mines.”_

_“Oh.”_

_He could be lying. And if not, she could still make it, just get some more shillex, anyone could be convinced with enough money—_

_“I know that look. That won’t work either.”_

_“Then what do you suggest I do?” She shot back with an accusing look._

_“Join me, and my fellow Kaonians in a revolution to change Cybertron, and make all cybertronian’s equals.”_

_She stared at him, his servo outstretched towards her, rather dramatically if you asked her. Given that he was one of the few prestigious gladiators from the pits, known just through the smirk on his faceplates, she probably shouldn’t have laughed the way she did._

_“I’m sorry, what?”_

_She wheezed, attempting to stifle her snickers through a servo. He seemed otherwise unimpressed, a frown setting on his face._

_“May I ask what’s so amusing to earn such a hearty grin from someone as inhospitable as yourself,” he scoffed._

_“I don’t mean to offend,” she managed to get out through choked words, gathering herself together._

_“However the idea itself seems so entirely laughable, surely you understand where I’m coming from.”_

_He narrowed his thick, curved optic brows, a sudden chilling look crossing his face—yet she seemed otherwise unfazed by it._

_“You misunderstand what power we hold. Perhaps not one of us, perhaps not even three dozen of us can create change. But think of hundreds of us joining together, fully ready and capable to overthrow the council.”_

_He clenched his fist, presenting it proudly in front of her, finishing with the bold claim of, “We would be unstoppable.”_

_She raised a brow, “You plan to overthrow the council by force?”_

_“If I am left with no other choice, as I hardly doubt the pleas of a humble gladiator will reach the high council.”_

_“Humble,” she reiterated, bemused, smiling teasingly._

_“Are you mocking me?”_

_“Of course not, though I suggest you find someone else to join your cult.”_

_“It’s not a cult!”_

_She stood up, taking one more quick snap of the sky, envying how free the stars seemed in the empty blackness above. Restrained by nothing, obeying no one. What a childishly hopeless dream._

_“Thank you. For the offer I mean. I am flattered you would come to recruit me yourself for...whatever this cause is you seem to believe in.”_

_She started to walk forward, before pausing for a moment, “But I’m not quite sure if I’m ready to chase after a fantasy for the rest of my life like you Megatronous.”_

_Then she sneered, “But do tell me how it feels like jumping off the edge of a cliff,” and continued onwards._

_Megatronous sat there, fist still clenched, somewhat taken aback._

_He smiled._

_“I look forward to seeing which one of wins tomorrow Ember.”_

_He heard her stop once again._

_“As do I.”_

_He stood up, following her to where she had come to a halt by the edge of the staircase leading down to their habsuites. Holding a servo out to her, he smirked at the femme, for once not having to look down to meet the face of another bot._

_“May the best of us win.”_

_She smirked back, clasping her servo around his, firmly shaking it._

_“I look forward to it.”_


	2. Chapter 2

Old and rusting away with the rain falling from the night sky onto the chipping white paint of the old factory, nothing seemed amiss from the distance. However upon closer examination, with amber light peering out from the wooden doorway of the abandoned building, and the ominous creaks accompanied by the deafening howls of the wind, something seemed amiss. And if you pressed close to the factory, you could hear the faint murmurs of people accompanied with the buzzing of a drill, and scraping of metal.

The front wooden door creaked open sliver, leaving a sliver of an opening to peak outside. With their face covered in a tough green rubbery mask meant as protection or a barrier to the heavy machinery, and thick black goggles fitted over their eyes, it was impossible to catch any distinguishable facial features.  
They had the barrel of the rifle peeking out of the door with the stock pressed into their shoulder, hands on the trigger, ready to shoot. And every so often, they spoke in hushed whispers into a walkie talkie, watching only for a few moments before shutting the door back.

Inside, several cables hung loosely from the ceiling, and large claws held by only a few bolts operated quickly, as if the people controlling them were in a hurry. The inside was lit dully, dark shadows found within the corners of the factory, meanwhile the rain seemed to be eroding into the metal, a few drops of water leaking through the broken shingles of the roof. Rust plague the interior of the factors, a punch seemingly enough to make a whole through the walls with the whole building shuddering with every gusty wind. Helicopters were active inside the building, rotor blades rotating slowly as people jumped in and out, hosting up heavy wooden crates into the cargo holds. 

Meanwhile, the people themselves lacked any defining characteristics. In fact, they seemed to be devoid of any characteristics that made them unique. Bodies all lean and fit for combat, and while heights did fluctuate, nothing else seemed to differentiate them. Nothing, except for the fact one man didn’t have a mask on. The man had buzzed white hair with a signature scar cutting across his nose and brown eyes haunting, devoid of any emotion. His shoulders were wide, his arms bulging despite the rubber clothing, muscles evident throughout his torso and down his thighs to his calves. Despite the urgency of his men scrambling around, his shoulders were laid back and relaxed against the chair, his finger tapping steadily against the arm-rest as if he was a ticking time-bomb ready to explode at a moment's notice. 

“Humans...so primitive,” the man muttered, as if he himself had gained a higher understanding then the rest of his kind.   
“Uh, Silas, sir?”

A simple hand wave, without looking back, ushering the tall man over who held what appeared to be a miniscule, elementary version of a datapad.

“We’ve found a second signal.”  
Silas raised a brow, “Oh?”  
“They are in proximity to the last signal sir, the one we were planning on tracing…” he led off, his voice wavering as he picked up his head from the screen, watching Silas’s back.  
“Continue,” Silas ordered harshly.  
“Yes! Uh, however, we cannot tell if the subject is alive, or if this is a false reading. Their signature, though very similar to these alien robots, is also distinctly different. It is much more faint, making it all the more likely that this is a false alarm.”  
“I see,” Silas muttered intelligently, taking in the “datapad” the man offered and quickly scanning through.

“Are the readings accurate? Did you double-check the thermal readings?”  
“We triple-checked them sir.”  
Silas furrowed his brows, “They don’t seem to be moving.”  
“They haven't been moving for the last three hours it appears. Either they are resting, or they are dead. And our blue-blood readings signal that they may be injured in some kind of way.”

His smile was crooked with a dangerous glint entering those brown eyes. Why go after one when there was also a dead corpse for the taking? Or better yet, they were weak and easy bait for them to capture. Given how difficult it was to find and locate these behemoths in the first place, they may never receive an opportunity like this again. And he would be a fool not to take it.

Standing up he clapped his hands once, alerting and the attention of all thirty of his men, each of them halting in their tasks to look up their leader. 

“We stand at the dawn of an opportunity, and it would be a crime not to take what has been bestowed upon us.”

He paused, looking down at all fifty men staring up at him. Standing there. Waiting. Their obedience, their silence, their willingness to do whatever he commanded of them. Never would he have found such loyal men in the military. Getting kicked out might’ve been the best thing to have happened to him. 

“Prepare for some additional cargo holds, we’re going hunting boys.”

They called him a mad-man, a sociopath for encouraging research on humans to make them more superiorly to other beings, giving them the rightful edge to dominate the world, and maybe even the universe given the proof of aliens living among them. 

They said he was tyrannical, that his ideals couldn't be supported by the American system. 

Well, if he couldn't get the military to do it, he could do it himself. 

And he’ll show the world just what power really feels like. 

  
***

Ember’s arm felt like it was on fire. 

She had expected it to hurt after the adrenaline fully wore off, but not quite nearly this bad. Her body felt sluggish and slow despite the fact she had drunk rather an immense quantity of energon in one sitting, and her eyes took much effort to finally flutter open. The darkness made it hard for her to see in the interior of the ship, limited to only faint strains of moonlight.

Grimacing, she gently picked herself off the floor and grabbed the dagger-like blade to cut through the thick webs matted on her arm. As she tore away the energon soaked webs, she found the edges of the ripped skin to be bright red and hot to the touch. Her head throbbed and she felt a little woozy herself despite the fact she had been sleeping for at least a joor. 

She wasn’t a scientist, nor did she know anything about organics, so she could hardly tell if this was simply the pain of literally ripping her own skin, or if this was evidence of something worse. 

Energon usually clotted, holding together small cuts and scrapes and preventing any infections from occurring. And cybertronian metal had the ability to heal and grow back with time. However this was a rather large wound, nearly the size of her palm smacked dead in the middle of her left fore-arm. And energon wasn’t quite doing the trick given the large surface area of the wound. 

Normally this would call for welding with a sheet of metal which she could handle just fine on her own given her experience of self-treating wounds from the arenas, though she wasn’t quite sure that welding would be the answer for this fleshy material. Not to mention she couldn't use a regular sized cybertronian welder for her arm if it was bigger than her entire body.

Deciding maybe it would be best to simply wait this out and work on it when it was morning and she could see her wound much better beside the obvious redness, she set to work on wrapping a new set of spiderwebs over her wound. It surprisingly prevented the bleeding quite well, and did not weigh her down as much as she had thought given her smaller frame. Who knew Arachnid’s webs had medicinal purposes?

Ember could faintly recall a medic who was of Arachnid’s kind, or at least resembled her in some way. But instead of using her webs for the means of trapping their prey, they used it to help wounded bots. Whether it was true or not, she couldn’t remember, though it didn’t seem too far-fetched considering she had come across a handful of Arachnid’s kind who thankfully weren’t all sociopathic alien hunters. 

Arachnid was simply just special. 

She had gotten as much webbing as she could at the time, but she reminded herself that she should probably get more later to take care of her other wounds. Well, after she was done filling a full recharge cycle. Whether it was the transformation that made her exhausted, or the fact that she had hardly known of recharging while running from the DJD, she found herself caring less and less about the impending doom this ship placed her in on this planet. 

With Arachnid evidently lurking this planet and looking for her newest trophy, it would only be time until Arachnid found her too. A part of her wondered where the transmuter was now, whether it had escaped rather unharmed despite the forceful tugging as she fought Arachnid, or if it was obliterated given the fact that Arachnid was still running around in her bot form. 

Ember could only hope that it was still mostly intact as that was the only way she could think of returning back. However, even if the transmuter was mostly intact, she realized how optimistic it was to hope she could fix it herself. Afterall, she was no scientist. Even if she did express an interest in what Shockwave discussed about his new scientific inventions, she was no better than the warlord when he simply nodded his helm, pretending he understood everything the mech was discussing when he went into detail. 

Blowing a puff of air to push out the strand of purple hair from her face, she finished up winding the spider web around her arm. A strange calmness settled into her as she stared at her now organic body. Perhaps the shock had not worn off like she had thought, that maybe she was still lost in a daze with her mind still unable to grasp reality. Or perhaps she had simply gotten to the same weariness she found herself in countless times before. 

Simply too weary to emote, unable to conjure up any feeling within. It was a familiar sensation to her, the joy she felt when she used to look at the stars slowly fading into nothing but a reminder of the naivety she once had. 

Energon, like many other lubricants and fluids, had the tendency to give off a faintly sour odor if left out unsealed. Especially if it was energon that had been processed through the body and was just slightly altered in terms of composition. Though she knew some bots had a kink for the scent, she was not one of them. She was actually quite displeased by the smell. Funny considering she would constantly be surrounded by said smell in the medical rooms from the pits, usually not one of the most sought after clinics on Cybertron for rather obvious reasons given their minimal budget. Simply because she was used to the scent didn’t mean that she couldn't prefer something...cleaner. 

Scooping up the used webs in her arms, she walked towards the gaping hole into her ship to dump the soiled material off away from her ship. As she walked through the woods, she noticed that there was a rather chilling tingle traveling up her spine. Perhaps it was because her eyes were scurrying around, looking out for that eight-eyed demon that had spooked her earlier and nearly made her soul leave her body. 

Even though she despised how every step forward squelched under her feet, and the air was uncomfortably both heavy with moisture and cool, there was a sort of liveliness around her. And make no mistake, she wasn’t too fond of that either considering what sorts of creepy wide-eyed alien creatures she would find here. Though in a way, it was at least comforting to know she wasn’t the only one here, unlike Cybertron during its final days. She could recall walking for several hundred miles without a shred of life. But here in this quaint little forest, there seemed to be almost a limitless amount of life.

She did find it surprising that the transmuter had transformed her into this rather fragile form given her surroundings. The way the transmuter worked from her knowledge is that it took a snapshot of its surroundings, give or take whatever is in the span of a thousand mile radius, and chooses an intelligent life form within this radius for its cybertronian user to take. 

Though it was rather strange it had given her such an evolutionary deficient being, lacking any sort of protection like hard shelled plating formed through calcium structures, the one thing she learned from Shockwave’s long briefings about his off-world experiments. Or at the very least any sort of offensive weapons such as sharp claws or strong jaws that could snap prey in half.

Instead she was left with these soft hands, small jaw, and flesh body bag. 

Ember quickly understood why they perhaps didn’t grow with their environment when a sudden spree of gunshots rang out. Her natural instinct had her shooting out her right hand, ready to shoot at ready—until she realized she had nothing to shoot with. Her arm had remained the same. Great, another limitation to this form. 

Either way, she supposed it didn’t really matter, assuming that was just Arachnid chasing after some poor creature to be her next trophy. That is until she realized Arachnid didn’t use machine guns. Too brute-like, Ember recalled the femme saying, rather ironic considering how she kept the pierced heads of her enemies. 

The noise came to a stop, along with a flock of birds disappearing into the sky. Ember peered cautiously in its direction, trying to make out something in the distance but finding it impossible to do so with the lack of light and shaded leaves. Standing still was always the worst thing one could do in the middle of the battlefield, and suddenly she didn’t feel so comfortable knowing she wasn’t the only one in these woods. Bending down, she tossed in the webs underneath a bush so that her presence may not be so apparent if whomever those shots belonged to happened to stray to her area. Then, she raced back towards her ship.

Activating the cloaking shield would be a waste of time. The ship was already leaking energon, and given that the dashboard currently had the trunk of a tree going through it, she hardly thought anything she could do would help right now given her lack of materials or tools. Instead, she attempted to make the ship look abandoned. Energon already pooled on the floor and the interior of the ship was still a mess considering she hadn’t bothered to move anything around. Peeking outside, she hurriedly tried to bury the evidence of fresh ashes outside, and carried the remaining wood and dumped it into another bush. 

Grabbing her dagger, she quickly crawled up one of the many trees surrounding the crash-site, hiding within the bunches of leaves to hide her. Though her navigation skills were alright, she wasn't confident enough to figure out her way through a place she was not familiar with, especially through the night. And given that all her energon was stored on that ship, she couldn’t afford to lose sight of it. Or more importantly, lose the one mode of transportation to get her off this planet once she found the transmuter. 

The moment she reached the top of the tree, or a comfortable enough spot where she felt hidden, she suddenly realized how out of breath she was along with the strange dampness in her hands. It was rather strange considering she would never be this out of breath after simply running a few meters and climbing a tree. Then again, she didn’t really need to breathe before but…

Her thoughts snapped shut when she heard rustling beneath her, and out came two creatures, then two more following after, and soon enough there were at least a dozen of them. They held primitive guns with red lasers shooting out from the upper tip. Ember tried not to move as she attempted to get a better look of them, nearly letting a curse escape her lips when her foot slipped.

Their eyes were large and glassy, and their skin didn’t seem like that of a fleshling. It was rubbery of sorts and green, nearly making them blend into the trees if it hadn’t been they were the wrong shade of green. They looked identical, and for a moment Ember wondered if their species were somehow clones of each other--until she saw a fleshling appear. The strands on their head seemed to be cut short, and their facial features, though severely different than her own, consisted of the same key parts. Eyes, soft malleable lips, outwardly protruding nose, and a round head. The only difference was that their body was covered in the rubbery green material, while her’s was all exposed. Almost as if the fleshy skin was their protoform and the green covering was mimicking armor...

“Caution boys, our bot is right up ahead, the eight-legged freak said she should be easy to capture as long as she doesn’t see us first,” the fleshling with white hair said, pulling down goggles pushed up to his fore-head. Ember watched as they approached her ship, stepping right over the buried ashes without a single thought. 

‘Foolish’ was her first thought when they stepped right into the ship, only looking around for basic things such as tripwire. Had she been in her regular bot form, she could’ve at least repaired part of the ships short-distance defensive mechanisms already, and those flesh-bags would’ve been turned to crisp. 

Ember’s hand tightened on the dagger as they returned back outside into the clearing within a few moments, looking around as if they were searching for something, or rather someone. And that someone soon became crystal clear when all their heads turned in her direction slowly, and within a second a bullet zipped past her. She jumped, caught off guard with the sudden shot, and seemed to have forgotten in that split moment that she was still caught in a tree.

Landing on her side, she didn’t have time to bitch about how much it hurt, quickly scrambling onto her feet and ducking when another shot landed next to her. Grabbing her dagger which fell on the ground in her haste, she pulled her shoulders in as a dozen more shots blew up dirt around her. She eyed the space next to her hidden by the trunk of a tree. If she could somehow sneak away while they continued to rear their bullets at her… 

Ember nearly yelped when one bullet shot narrowly close to her shoulder, and decided it was now or never. Observing the steady stream of bullets, she noticed how there would be a short two to three second pause in between, meaning they were probably using semi-automatic guns. Positioning herself as best as she could behind the trunk, the moments the bullets stopped, she sprung forward. Her spark froze in that split second, and a sharp pain sprung in her ankle as she fell forward. 

She couldn’t help the shout that escaped her, grimacing and biting her lip hard as she pulled herself back up, carefully adding pressure to her foot only to hiss in pain. Wincing, she did the same thing to discreetly jump to the third tree, and then the fourth. Soon she was out of the range of fire, and she took the chance to run, or rather hobble away. Hopefully they would continue shooting away, and the moment they realized she was gone, she would already be deep into the woods. 

For a moment luck seemed to be on her side as the sound of bullets stopped suddenly, and she had already put a decent amount of space between them. 

Unfortunately she had forgotten to consider the fact those fleshling weren’t the only ones on the hunt for her. 

One second she was on the ground, the next she was up in the air covered in sticky webs, hanging at least ten feet from the floor on the trunk of a tree, staring rather pitifully at her dagger on the floor.  
“Oh what ever happened to you? You look utterly disgusting.”

Ember rolled her eyes and glanced up to see her purple optics staring rather bemusedly at her. “A joy to see you too Arachnid,” Ember said flatly, eyeing her as she crawled down the trunk of another tree, and then folded her legs behind her as she walked up to her.  
“Funny to see Megatron’s most esteemed general in such a small...dainty little form. Oh wait, you quit the decepticons didn’t you?”

“What do you want Arachnid?,” Ember said irritably, not quite in the mood to deal with the prying nature of the fellow ex-decepticon. Arachnid grinned wickedly, reaching forward and perking Ember’s head up forcibly with all but a single digit, revealing tensed jaw and narrowed brows.

“You know, you were one of my favorites Em. Really, out of that boring boys club, you made things a little more bearable.”  
“But?” Ember ushered, recognizing that double-crossing glint in the femme’s optics. 

It was then that the flesh-bags decided to make their appearance from the bushes, red lasers pointed at her, one nearly blinding her when it was shot straight into her eyes.   
“And I thought MECH was supposed to be the best of what humans had to offer,” Arachnid said accusingly, tilting her head back towards them.

“She caught us off-guard,” the ‘human’ with short white hair admitted bitterly, as if he was forcibly pushing down his pride in the knowledge that one mis-step would result in him and his team quickly being scrapped. And yet she saw a familiar look in the humans eyes, stone-cold, one eerily similar to the kind she saw in Shockwave’s single red optic. 

“We didn’t expect to capture a naked woman when you said technorganic.”  
Arachnid only shrugged her shoulders.

“Well you’ll have to do a better job at capturing Arcee if you want you and your _men_ to be spared.”  
“Trust me, us humans have better ways of luring in our enemies,” the white-haired human said with an edge of deceitfulness.   
“Arcee--there are autobots here?” Ember asked, quickly attracting back the attention of her capturer.

“Not just autobots, decepticons too. Turns out Optimus Prime has a whole gang of his autobots down here, and Megatron followed him.”  
“Of course he did,” Ember murmured under her breath, somehow not surprised at this point. 

Arachnid’s optics brightened, realization striking her, “Your communications are broken aren't they?”  
She inched closer, “You don’t know what happened to Breakdown don’t you?”  
“So what if I don’t?” Ember shot back, though her fiery gaze lightened when she saw the wicked sneer on the femme's face-plate.

Arachnid chuckled, “Well why should I ruin the surprise? I’ll let you figure it out for yourself.”

Stepping aside, she revealed one of the green clad humans with their rifles pointed straight at her. All of them 

“Truly, I did enjoy our time together in the decepticon ranks. But consider this as payback for landing me on this detestable planet in the first-place and destroying my ticket towards my perfect paradise.”  
“You mean adding more to heads to your pile of-”  
“Oh we all have ugly little things we like. Take you for example. Don’t pretend I don’t see that beautiful spark in your optics every time you skewer an autobot head.”

Ember opened her mouth to say something, but couldn’t manage to form any words. And she never would, because with the pull of a trigger--she was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Ngl, I really struggled with this chapter. I'm not a huge fan of filler in general, but this chapter is pretty much filler. And I have to give a massive thanks to yesprettycool for helping get through this and helping me edit this chapter. Updates will also be slow, I'll try for one chapter a month but no promises. Again, feedback would be much appreciated, and feel free to tell me what you guys think of the story so far!


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